


Flare

by BlueHedgehog



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Burns, Deviates From Canon, Episode Ignis Spoilers, From the Canon that Already Deviated From the Canon, Gen, Major Character Injury, Serious Injuries, Sorry Not Sorry, Still Lord of the Tiny Chapters, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, not beta read we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-03-23 11:40:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13786875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueHedgehog/pseuds/BlueHedgehog
Summary: Ignis was burning.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [invisibledeity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/invisibledeity/gifts).



Ignis was burning.

His body had been laid upon a pyre, pinned down with a heavy weight on the chest, and the smoke around him was so thick it hid that he was still alive and struggling, choked all pleas for help. As the flames were growing higher, their white-hot peaks licked at his skin, and by all means he should have passed out by now, suffocated, but he was still aware when they began swallowing him whole. There was no rhyme or reason to it, nothing in exchange, no rush of power, not loved ones to protect. Only pain, so sharp and urgent that there was nothing beyond it.

He woke up to his own screams, not for the first time. A nightmare. A distressing and recurring one, but if he was honest with himself, one that was expected, downright normal in the light of recent events. It would become less frequent over time, or so he hoped, and the overwhelming sensation of it would fade now that he was getting a hold of the waking world again.

Any moment now.

The searing pain did not relent, it only changed in quality, concentrating on the parts of Ignis’ body he knew had burnt in reality. He kicked off the sheets, needed to get rid of them and of his clothes, _now_. He stumbled to his feet, the sensation tearing at his limbs, his chest, and _gods_ , his face. When he undressed, he could barely stifle another scream. For a moment he was sure that his shirt was stripping the skin off his muscles. All he could think of was to find relief, and it was only when he was in the shower, cold water washing over him, that he could stop to _think_ , and to _look_.

All that had been burnt to ash and later healed was now angry red and blistered, bleeding where the fabric had been stuck before he had ripped it off. It explained why the water was more a trade-off than a solution, a remedy to the burn at the price of a hardly lighter acidic sting. It also explained why his knees were giving way, why his ears were ringing, and why opening his left eye was damn near impossible.

He needed help, but their quarters here were large, laid out with thick carpets – sound did not carry very well. So far he had been grateful for this generous gift of privacy, for knowing that Gladio and Prompto could not hear him at night. Now he wished for the limited space and thin walls of a motel room or trailer.

Ignis tried to call for his friends nonetheless, darkness already creeping in from the edges of his limited vision, found that the capacity for words had left him. He sank against the wall, the tiles digging into his open wounds. He didn’t bother holding back the scream this time.

***

Prompto could hear the water running too clearly. The shower was turned up all the way, but the door was still open. It didn’t make sense. “Ignis? Are you in there?”

No reply. He took a look around, uneasy now. The disorderly spread of clothes on the floor didn’t help. He knocked and entered the bathroom. “Ignis?”

It took a moment before his conscious thoughts had caught up with his body. He was already on the floor and by Ignis’ side, getting soaking wet himself, when he understood what he was looking at. “No… oh no, no, shit no. _Gladio!_ ”

This wasn't happening, none of this was happening. The Crystal had _healed_ Ignis, he had seen it. He had been fine just a few hours ago.

 _Calm down, you need to keep a cool head now, Iggy needs you to to keep a cool head right now._ Cold water for burns, right? That had been the idea here. No, that was crap, Ignis was already too cold. Turn off the water, then. Fuck, was he breathing? Yeah, yeah, he was, good. That was a start.

Prompto called for Gladio again, voice cracking, even though he could already hear him come running. He looked up when the steps were close enough and the metal of the Shield’s sword rang against the doorframe. “No, no that. Potion, not sword. Ignis, he’s--” He could see for himself, right?

Stunned silence. The sword dematerialised. “Fuck.”

“Do we have--?”

“None left.” Gladio grabbed the only clean towel he could find. “You’re faster, you get them, one won’t do. And more clean cloth, bandages, anything you can get your hands on.”

“Bandages?! Look at him! We need to get him to a hospital.”

“ _What_ hospital?”

Prompto cursed. Gladio was right. The Gods and the Empire had taken good care of those. Bandages and potions, then, and a doctor. He let Gladio take over, gently wrap the fabric around their friend and pick him up, and ran, almost slipping as he took off, leaving wet trails on the carpets.


	2. Chapter 2

_Pryna showed him the crossroads._

_Hundreds of paths spread out before him, stretching into the void. Cobblestone streets and dirt trails, avenues and lazy walkways along the riverside, highways and tunnels and mountain passes. He dismissed most of them immediately. They ended too soon, or wound away in the wrong direction. Of the few that remained, one stood out._

_A boulevard, white stone, perfectly laid and lit._

***

The world came back to him in waves, sensations flooding over him and retreating. Pain. Darkness. Warmth. Softness. Pressure. Sound. Over time, they broke into recognizable pieces. A bed, he felt cushions and blankets, arms stretched out to the sides. Pressure in the back of his throat, the crook of his arm. Footsteps and rustling. A warm weight on his forehead, lingering for a while, then gone.

***

_Pryna showed him the crossroads, and Ignis watched the spotless road before him._

_It was all too obvious which of his options this one was, who had built it and why. The lanterns were searchlights. It was easier to wash blood off smooth ground. It would take all of them to their destination with lethal precision and certainty._

***

His back was seizing up, demanding his attention. The ache spreading through the muscles along his spine should have been easy to relieve. He only needed to move. The attempt brought sharper pains into focus, the jagged glass under his skin, the hook in his eye. It pulled a noise out of him he had not thought he was capable of making. He almost missed the footsteps and the voice.

“It’s okay.” _Prompto._ “It’s okay, it’s gonna be better in a minute, promise.” Cold running through his arm, and the words _IV_ and _injection_ came to him with some delay. Whatever Prompto had given him worked quickly. He was too heavy to move, only felt the fabric against his skin when he tried to do it, anyway.

The pain dulled down to sandpaper and needles.

***

_Pryna showed him the crossroads, hundreds of darkened paths, and one brightly lit. All of them exposed. All of them leading somewhere._

_Ignis walked none of them._

***

“It’s almost six, go get some rest.”

A low hum in reply.

“C’mon, big guy, you’ve been here all night.”

“I still have…” A pause. “Oh.”

“That mug’s been empty for two hours, and you’re getting some shuteye. We’ve had that discussion.”

“What if–”

“You’ll be the first to know. _Sleep_.”

***

_There was a cleft in the mountainside, just wide enough to fit him if he crawled and sacrificed some skin._

_He got down on his knees._


End file.
